05 September 2005
04 September 2005
03 September 2005
01 September 2005
My First Secret
19 May 2010
I realised after looking through my posts that while I've been spilling my sexual past one entry at a time, I've not shared a secret.
As the name of this blog is Secret Sex Confessions then I figured it was about time I spilled one. So here goes. This is something I've not shared with anyone. I lie, I did share this with a bloke I met online, but he doesn't count.
I don't mind the jobs I've had. I spend my days filing paperwork, archiving old forms and constructing cardboard boxes on my hands and knees. Add to the fact I take a few calls and it's not too strenuous and the wage is fair I've got no complaints. But one thing I do enjoy being paid for is sneaking off to the toilets to have a mid-day play.
Sometimes sitting at my desk I go through the list of men I've been with in my head, creating my own slide show of filthy images, holding on to each one in my mind for a few seconds before the next one comes along and blocks the other one out. Thoughts of oral sex, anal, dress up, hands grabbing, skin slicking together, hair being pulled, someone tasting me, fingers pawing, bodies slapping all mash in to one another and I can't think straight. What's a girl to do? I try to be good and hold off on doing anything. Maybe savouring it until I get home will be worth it. Will all the pent up frustration be worth holding on to in the hope of a strong orgasm?
Sometimes yes it is. But on the other occasions where I sit, fidgeting at my desk, unable to concentrate on the screen in front of me and wondering is it possible to download some porn sneakily on my phone, I have to give in. I ache to be touched. I can feel my knickers becoming sticky, my skin is electric. Anyone leaning over to lend the stapler could set me off and I know I can't sit there until the hands on the clock tick around till home time and I just have to rush to the toilets.
Holing myself in the cubicle, my trousers either come down or my skirt goes up. Depending on how much time I think I have, the knickers either get pulled to the side or if it's been a quiet day, they get pulled down too. Knowing I have mere minutes until someone could walk in and it's a stand off to see whoever can stay in the cubicle the longest, my fingers set to work. The main problems I encounter are making sure no-one comes in and can see my feet at strange angles or wondering why one foot is on the floor and the other is no where to be seen and then wondering what the rattling is against the door (which is usually my other foot shaking as I start to cum). I find it bloody hard to stay silent too. I've had someone enter the bathroom just as my orgasm set in and I let out a little squeak. The old love had no idea. But on most occasions I just about manage to swallow the noises that would otherwise be escaping my lips and come almost silently, apart from the rattling door.
And once I've came, the clothes come back on, I wash my hands, smarten myself up in the mirror and return back to my desk, ready to tackle the rest of the day with no-one the wiser.